


Spaces

by rainaftersnowplease



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Bartender AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainaftersnowplease/pseuds/rainaftersnowplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marceline is a long-time patron of the bar Bonni works at as a bartender. Tonight, Marceline, having had too much to drink, bums a ride back to her apartment from the familiar barkeep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spaces

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [As a bartender, Bonnibel learns a lot of things](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/26939) by itoshiteru. 



The apartment was sparsely furnished but warm, as expected. She should never have agreed to this, but…well, Marceline was a long-time patron, and had closed the place down with Bonni on more occasions than the bartender could readily remember. And besides, if anything happened, Bonni had at least twenty pounds on the skinny musician. That and the fact that Marceline couldn’t even get her key in the lock without her help had relieved some of her anxiety.

The door opened up into the living room, which was carpeted a deep red that plunged into black in the sparse porch light leaking in from the open door. Bonni felt along the wall to her right with her free hand, searching for a switch. Finding and flipping it flooded the space with warm, muted light from a standing lamp in the corner.

A plush, leather-looking couch occupied most of the leftmost wall. Before it stood a low, darkly-colored coffee table, splattered white with sheet music and polka-dotted in multicolor with empty coffee mugs. A small television sat against the wall opposite the couch, a layer of dust atop it crinkled by grooves from where, doubtless, the remote was normally placed. A hallway to the couch’s left disappeared into darkness. An archway next to the television revealed a sliver of the darkened kitchen tile.

“Serry ‘bout the mess,” Marceline slurred, leaning heavily on Bonni’s shoulder so the bartender had to slump steeply to the side to keep the both of them upright. “S’not how I wanted y’ta see the place, Bon.”

It should have set off alarm bells, but Bonni found herself oddly flattered that the casual singer would care about the first impression her place made. Marceline lurched forward and Bonni stumbled to keep her from lurching right into the squishy maroon carpet.

“Where’s the bedroom? Down the hall?” Bonni asked gently. She yanked her back up sharply to right the swaying singer in her arms. “Marceline?”

A strangled gurgling as all the reply she received for a moment. Marceline leaned her jaw against Bonni’s chest. Bonni felt it flex with a hard swallow.

“Not gon’ make it t’the bed,” the words mushed together on their way out of  Marceline’s mouth. “Couch.”

Bonni sighed.

“Okay,” she acquiesced. “Nice and easy, then.”

She nudged Marceline’s stumble-shuffle carefully around the messy coffee table. Not cautiously enough, though: the singer clipped a wayward knee on its edge and dumped them both onto the couch in a disgruntled heap.

“Oh, tarts!” Bonni yelped, twisting roughly to right herself out of the faceful of faux leather she’d caught.

Marceline, having at that moment all the wherewithal of a garden snail, turned as well, slower, and the wrong way. Bonni ended up stuck, her back against Marceline’s front, legs all the way from her hips, sandwiched between Marceline and the back of the couch.

“Double tarts – Marceline would you _please_ –”

“Ssh –” she was cut off.

Indignant at being shushed, Bonni jerked her gaze upward to Marceline’s face.

Her rebuke died on her tongue.

Marceline was asleep, chin dipped low towards her chest. Her arm looped still about Bonni’s neck, slacker now in sleep than even before in drunkenness. A smile sliced cleanly into her lips. Bonni looked down again, then shut her eyes tight and felt the image of Marceline’s peacefully-sleeping smile etch into her brain.

She wondered then if this is what it felt like to crawl into the spaces between the notes.


End file.
